


Wet

by kiddypool



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Can you even stop thinking that way, F/M, Fluff and Smut, God you're messed up in the head Jacob, Hurt/Comfort, If you saw season 3 you know how that's going to end, Is it cheating if it s part of the job ?, Light Dom/sub, Mention of Dresden, Minor nervous breakdown, Missing Scene, No Condom, OMG THEY DID IT, Orphans in search of a family, Pussy Worship, Resolved Sexual Tension, They soooooo did it, Touch-Starved, Unprotected Sex, mention of cheating, mention of gina, pussy licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiddypool/pseuds/kiddypool
Summary: He lied to her for two years and married her as a deep cover operative. She kept him captive in the hull of a ship for 4 months and tortured him for information. Aram believes Red made it all up, Ressler thinks it's messed up and Navabi prefers to think it's incredibly romantic.(At the end of ep 20 Liz shows up on Tom's doorstep , litterally ... wet)
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Tom Keen | Jacob Phelps
Kudos: 32





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> I just love that scene in Season 2 at the begining of ep 21. Obviously they did it but they dont want to talk about it. They can't stop smiling, like kids with their hand in the cookie jar, and they can't stop flirting with each other. Tom's face is an open book, heart on his sleeve, Liz oozes sexiness, she tries to stay serious but she can't stop teasing him. Such incredible chemistry. So much oxytocin !!
> 
> Also, fair warning. Apparently i can't stop writing Het. I inhale gay porn breakfast lunch and diner, especially BDSM, but apparently when i write, what comes out is ... Fluff and Het. What ??? I feel cheated. But hey. Self discovery. Apparently that's the deal. Let's hope someone will like what i write.

When she came to him in the rain she was soaking wet. 

Litterally, not in the fun way. she was trembling, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her whole body was seeking contact, warmth. She was frozen on the spot and she didn't want to come in so he stepped outside in the rain and dragged her slowly to his chest, and she didn't resist. They stayed like that for a moment, her whole body relaxed against his, trembling. His hand in her hair. Her face mashed up in his vest. Then he slowly untangled them. "Come here, come inside, Liz", he murmured, and she followed. 

Inside was a shameful mess, the ground floor of an abandonned storehouse where he was lucky enough to tap running water and electricity, but no heat, no comfort, just filthy concrete, no clean bed or anything. One single light bulb screwed in directly on the wires in the ceiling, distributing squalid light. He took her to the corner where he had his pile of stuff, a camping roll-on mattress, a few clothes. He rumaged for his only towel and started drying her hair. Her face was blank, she was watching him but not giving any specific sign, any indication of positive or negative direction, so he continued taking care of her, with gentle gestures, not to spook her. He removed her soaking wet blue shirt, and also the white sleeveless undershirt leaving her naked topless in a bra, rivulets of rain water on her face. He toweled her shoulders and back dry, then delicately patted her front. He was giving her glances, waiting for rejection, but she let him go on. He didn't know what to make of that. He took his only clean hoodie, a light grey long sleeves thing with no particular shape or form, but at least it as warm, so he dragged it above her head, pushed her hands through the sleeves and pulled the hood above her head.

Now she looked like a kid in some adult clothing twice her size, but at least she would stop trembling, he thought. He gave her a small smile and moved on to kneel in front of her. He started by unlacing the straps of her short black boots, removing one after the other, putting them aside. Even the socks were soaked through so he peeled them off too. Then he put his fingers on her jeans at her waist and delicately popped open the top button. With a quick glance up he checked on her : she was still looking blankly at him, impassive, her beautiful blue eyes fixed on him, surveilling his every move, not helping, but not rejecting his help either. He unzipped the jeans and tried to undress her gently but the jeans were wet and stuck tight to her skin. He pulled as delicately as he knew, and finally managed to kind of peel them off her hips, when he stopped suddenly and froze. She still had her panties on but they were made of some white whimsy fabric, and entirely soaked through, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. So, suddenly, Tom was there kneeling at Liz's feet, eye to eye with his ex-fake-wife very familiar pussy. His first impulse was to give it a kiss. An irrational need to kiss it better, to apologize for all the hurt he caused it, to make it happy and bury his nose in it, and never come out ever after. Instead he froze and gripped her hips tight, trying to restrain himself. He bit the inside of his cheek. But then he looked up at her and she was looking straight back, with this incredible heat in her eyes. "Tom", she just said, imperative. And she pushed his face against her cunt with both hands, erased the last inch of distance between them and the last dreg of his restraint.

So he went wild, face mashed in her cunt, he raised her bodily and swiped her down swiftly to the mattress, and got rid of her jeans fast, he didn't really know how, he might have ripped her panties in the process for all he knew, and he was licking and sucking and peppering kisses on her thighs and her belly and he breathed her in and she welcomed him between her thighs. She pinned him down with one cold damp leg wrapped on his back and he pushed both hands under the hoodie, as he licked and licked and licked, touching her everywhere, her back, her belly, her breast, and she arched as he lapped at her and it was like her clit was starved for attention, ready to go, and she came like a grenade, just pull to trigger, count to 5 before detonation. She came with this sharp shout, like a surprise, and then she fell boneless against the covers catching her breath. 

Didn't she had any sex with anyone else since he blew his cover ? He wondered, his lips lingering around her pussy, and he felt weirdly happy about it. He ignored his own erection, hot and heavy with want, because he still wasn't too sure of what she wanted next and he really didn't want to mess up. So he ignored his dick pushing painfully againt the seam of his jeans, instead he inhaled her very particular smell, sweet and sour at the same time. So much like home. 'I missed you so much' he murmured against her skin, a secret, low, and his voice was gruff with some weird emotion he didn't recognise and there was something humid at the corner of his eyes. From the rain, he thought. Its just the rain. 

"Come here" she said and she pulled him up next to her and she started to undress him, pulling and pushing at his clothes so he helped her and he quickly ended up completely naked, on his back with her straddling him. She took his wrists and pushed both his arms firmly above his head, crossing one wrist above the other. Stay, she didnt say. and he obeyed. Following Liz's orders right now felt right somewhat, natural. She sat on his thighs, centimeters away from his raging erection, and he watched her avidly as she wriggled out of the hoodie. And then she threw it over his face, and he couldn't see anything anymore. "I need you not to see", she asked, and he obeyed that as well. Was she hiding her body from him, or hiding his face from her ? Whatever it meant, he accepted it anyway. He didn't dare move. He jerked minutely when she took his stiff member in her dainty little fingers, warm now, jacking him slowly. He bit his lip when she played with the head lightly, exploring. He felt quite sensitive, a bit too close to shooting to enjoy her touch entirely.

He certainly did jerk off during the past few months, he took care of himself, somewhat mechanically, but it wasn't the same. in Dresden, there was this blond girl, too, covered in tattoos. He fucked her, sure, usually quite roughly, doggy style with her face pushed in a pillow, that was part of the job, that was what Christof Mannheim would do, but he didn't let her touch him, it felt too much like cheating. Liz is who i belong to, the thought came unbidden out of nowhere, resonating in his skull like a gong, with a taste of rightfulness and ownership. Anyone else is wrong. I'm hers. And he tensed and he thought he wouldn't be able to stop himself from coming, like a 14 years old in Gina's hands but Liz knew him well, she clamped her other hand on his balls, pulling lightly, enough to move him past the impulse.

And then she raised herself slightly above his hips and pulled him between her thighs and guided him there, where it was smooth and silky, and wet, and hot, and she sheathed him inside herself as she pushed down on him and they moaned together at the burst of sensations. They both wanted it too much to last. "Dont speak", she said, "dont move, keep your hands up there". So he clamped one hand on the other, straining to obey, and she fucked herself on him, up and down, slow and fast, with all her favorite movements and rythms, and he just thought, take what you need, baby, take everything you need, i'm yours, i'm yours.

She sank her tiny claws in his pecs as she came apart around him with a long moan of pleasure, pulsating and flooding him with juice, and then she pushed one hand between them and squeezed the base of his cock and kept moving above him, prolongating her own pleasure, chasing the last dregs of her orgasm. "Liz, Liz", he heard himself begging, urgent, supplicating. "Come on, Tom" she said, and she released him and took him deep again, and ground herself against his pelvis and his balls drew up and his muscles locked as he fucked up into her and he couldn't help it, his hands flew up blind and they found her hips and he gripped her down tight as he felt himself coming as far as he could go inside of her with something garbled on his lips, that might or might not have been incriminating, mercifully smothered in the hoodie's fabric.

She stayed on top of him after that, she peeled the shirt from his face and looked at him like they met for the first time. She locked eyes with him, her face close enough that they shared the same breath, her body wrapped around his like a warm octopus, resting on his chest like a comfortable mattress, her little nose so close he couldn't see it without crossing his eyes. And she was looking at him differently, she didn't have this tough look anymore, this steely disenchanted look, iron curtain of mistrust and hurt he was responsible for having brought on to her, instead she was looking at him like she was Liz and he was Tom for the first time in forever. Home, Home, this is home, he thought. In the morning, i can finally look her in the eyes and apologize, he thought, and maybe there will be hope, he thought foolishly, right as she locked her lips on his mouth. No catch. Just a little hope.


End file.
